lotted
one of the best rooms in the house, for which he paid the suspicious
clerk in advance. When at length he was left alone in his luxurious
apartments, it was still a few minutes before twelve. He drew the vial
from his pocket without fear, without hesitation. He placed his watch
upon the table before him. Then he sat down and wrote out the following
oath:

"I, Peter Donaldson, swear by all that I hold most sacred that I will
offer my life freely and without question for the protection of any human
being needing it during these next seven days in which I shall live."

He signed this in a bold scrawling hand. It was as simply and earnestly
expressed as he knew how to make it.

He uncorked the vial and poured the liquid into a glass without a quaver
of his hand. He mixed a little water with it and raised it to his lips.
There he paused, for once again he seemed to see the big, calm eyes of
the girl now staring at him as though in surprise. But this time he
smiled, and with a little lift of the glass towards her swallowed the
liquid at a gulp.

CHAPTER III

_The Beginning of the End_

Before the bitter taste of the syrup faded from his tongue, Donaldson's
thoughts shifted from the Ultimate to the Now. He was too good a
sportsman to question his judgment by worry when once committed to an
enterprise. The world now lay before him as he had wished it--an
enchanted land in which he could move with as great freedom as a prince
in the magical kingdoms of Arabia. The Present became sharpened to
poignancy. Even as he stood there musing over the marvel of the new
world into which he had leaped--the old thin world of years condensed
into one thick week--he realized that this very wondering had cost him
five precious minutes. A dozen such periods made an hour, two dozen
hours a day--one seventh of his living space. This thought so whetted
his interest that he could have sat on here indefinitely, thrilled to
the marrow by the mere pageant of life as it passed before his eyes on
the street below. The slightest incident was now dramatic; the hurry
of men and women on their way up-town and down-town, the swift movement
of vehicles, the fluttering of birds in the sunshine, the unceasing,
eager flux of life. It was through the eyes of youth he was
looking--for is youth anything more than the ability to live the
irresponsible days as they come? Youth is Omar without his philosophy.
He grew dizzy. Life